MR. JOUR. (_to the_ FENCING MASTER). Gently. DAN. MAR. If I lay my hand upon you.... MR. JOUR. Softly. FEN. MAS. I will beat you after such a fashion.... MR. JOUR. (_to the_ FENCING MASTER). For goodness sake! DAN. MAS. I'll thrash you in such a style.... MR. JOUR. (_to the_ DANCING MASTER). I beg of you.... MUS. MAS. Let us teach him a little how to behave himself. MR. JOUR. (_to the_ MUSIC MASTER). Gracious heavens! Do stop. SCENE IV.--PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY, MR. JOURDAIN, MUSIC MASTER, DANCING MASTER, FENCING MASTER, A SERVANT. MR. JOUR. Oh! you are in the very nick of time with your philosophy. Pray come here and restore peace among these people. PROF. PHIL. What is going on? What is the matter, gentlemen? MR. JOUR. They have got themselves into such a rage about the importance that ought to be attached to their different professions that they have almost come to blows over it. PROF. PHIL. For shame, gentlemen; how can you thus forget yourselves? Have you not read the learned treatise which Seneca composed on anger? Is there anything more base and more shameful than the passion which changes a man into a savage beast, and ought not reason to govern all our actions? DAN. MAS. How, Sir! He comes and insults us both in our professions; he despises dancing, which I teach, and music, which is his occupation. PROF. PHIL. A wise man is above all the insults that can be offered him; and the best and noblest answer one can make to all kinds of provocation is moderation and patience. FEN. MAS. They have both the impertinence to compare their professions to mine! PROF. PHIL. Why should this offend you? It is not for vain glory and rank that men should strive among themselves. What distinguishes one man from another is wisdom and virtue. DAN. MAS. I maintain that dancing is a science which we cannot honour too much. [Footnote: In fact, dancing was much more honoured in Moliere's time than it is now.] MUS. MAS. And I that music is a science which all ages have revered. FEN. MAS. And I, I maintain against them both that the science of attack and defence is the best and most necessary of all sciences. PROF. PHIL. And for what, then, do you count philosophy? I think you are all three very bold fellows to dare to speak before me with this arrogance, and impudently to give the name of science to things which are not even to be honoured with the name of art, but which can only be classed with the trades of prize-fighter, street-singer, and mountebank. FEN. MAS. Get out, you dog of a philosopher. MUS. MAS. Get along with you, you beggarly pedant. DAN. MAS. Begone, you empty-headed college scout. PROF. PHIL. How, scoundrels that you are! (_The_ PHILOSOPHER _rushes upon them, and they all three belabour him_.) MR. JOUR. Mr. Philosopher. PROF. PHIL. Infamous villains! MR. JOUR. Mr. Philosopher! FEN. MAS. Plague take the animal! MR. JOUR. Gentlemen! PROF. PHIL. Impudent cads! MR. JOUR. Mr. Philosopher!